


Cobra Unit Oneshots

by Sorrowchan



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: (eventually) - Freeform, (there hasn't been any fear/fury yet but there will be rest assured), F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-03-31 10:48:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3975265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorrowchan/pseuds/Sorrowchan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WWII-centric ficlets revolving around the Cobra Unit and their shenanigans </p><p>Newest chapter: Fear gets a healthy dose of fear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prompt: Fury; puzzled

"So, Fear, I've been meaning to ask," Fury said, "why...that?"

"Why what?"

Fury gestured to Fear. "That. The tongue and all that shit."

The man in question grinned to show off teeth filed to sharp points. "To inspire _fear_ , of course. That's my thing, y'know. Don't tell me you've forgotten already?" he replied with a brief laugh.

"I know that's your thing, shithead, that's not what I meant," Fury said while rolling his eyes, "I meant, I dunno, why did you bother going so far to fuck yourself up? Is it really worth it to have a fucking cow tongue in your mouth just to freak people out?" 

"Of course."

Fury's brows furrowed in confusion, promoting Fear to continue, "look, you wouldn't get it, just like how I don't get why you're so pissed off all the time or why Pain maims people with fuckin' hornets."

"I can see the appeal of the bees, actually," Fury replied, "come on, can't even try? I at least _kind of_ get everyone else."

Fear sighed and had to think about it for a moment. His teammate should know by now how absolutely shit he was at putting thoughts into words, especially when it came to something like this. "'S like...masks and stuff just aren't the same. It's not you lookin' scary, it's the mask, but all this shit I've done is _me_ , y'know?" 

"I guess. Doesn't answer the question of why you want to scare people at all."

"Because -" Fear gestured at nothing particular as though he would find the answer in the air, "'cause it's just what I do. That's my gimmick. Like I said y'wouldn't get it."

Fury shook his head and sighed, "yeah, you got that right."


	2. Prompt: Fury; merciful

The radio at his hip was spewing out more static that sounded vaguely like Fear, and when he gathered that his teammate was telling him the rest of them had cleared out he ignored everything else that followed. Fury knew what to do next where he needed to go after that, no one had to hold his hand. 

It took him a few minutes to sort through the files left out in the room, his poor grasp of German making it hard to determine what might be important and what he could trash. He didn’t worry too much about it, though, if Joy had been that sure something vital was in there she would have sent End with him or come along herself. Anything he deemed useless was tossed onto the pile of unconscious grunts behind him in preparation for the fire he would leave in his wake, which was sure to spread quickly because these all looked like boring reports and personal shit. 

Finally when there were only a few folders left untouched Fury decided the place had been cleaned out well enough and pulled a grenade off his belt, a special concoction meant specifically for lighting a place up fast. But as he stood over the handful of guards on the floor he hesitated. 

People like the men in front of him were grunts, nobodies, ants in a line that would be replaced in a minute if something happened to them. Hell, they probably signed up knowing that. Except now that he was standing over them all he could hear was stupid fucking Sorrow’s voice in his head lecturing them all about how their enemies are people too, they have lives and family and on and on about all that shit. He thought it was stupid, of course, and he’d never want to admit that squishy, pacifist Sorrow might have a point. And yet here he was standing in a building very much not on fire. 

A couple more moments passed before Fury sighed and set his grenade aside so that he could haul the guards over offices window and toss them out of it, probably not far enough away to escape harm, but enough to ease his conscious. 

Once they were all safe and sound out on the grass he went back to pull the pin and quickly hopped out the window himself. 

He stayed long enough to watch the room be swallowed by a ball of fire and take one last glance at the men on the ground, then hurried on his way. One way or another ghost boy was probably going to know about this, but at least Sorrow wasn’t one for a whole lot of “I told you so”s.


	3. Joy/Sorrow kiss prompts 1

  * “Good morning” kiss



The early morning sun shone on their faces, enough to wake Joy but not Sorrow. It wasn't that he was a heavy sleeper, her poor boy was just always tired despite her attempts to get him on a reasonable sleep schedule.

She wasn't going to wake up just yet however, there was no need to get out of bed right away and she liked to watch him. Sorrow seemed most peaceful when he slept. The weight of the world wasn't on his shoulders and all he had to think of were sweet dreams. It showed too; right then he looked so much younger with his face at ease and the light turning his grey hair a brilliant white. Joy wished she could leave him like this, but the weight of the world really  was on their shoulders and it wasn't letting up anytime soon.

She brushed the stray locks of hair covering his face to the side and planted a firm kiss on his lips. That was all it took to make his eyes flutter open and a smile spread on his lips.

 

  * Kiss on the forehead



When he found her she was digging furiously around her room (while still managing to keep it organized, he noted with amusement). Every few seconds a curse flew from her mouth, some English, some Russian, and some in the languages she knew that he didn't, and he couldn't help smiling as he strolled in with his hands behind his back.

"Lose something?" he asked calmly.

" _Yes_ fucking lost something," she snapped, not even looking at him, "I can't believe I could have been this stupid! I'm the example, I'm the role model, and here I am just leaving my shit god knows where and making myself out to be an idiot. Did I have it on the plane back? Oh - oh fuck, what if I took it off on the drive back and set it down? _Dammit_ , I don't know, it could be anywhere...or..."

Mid-sentence he had held up her bandanna with one hand and as soon as she laid eyes on it all of her anger seemed to have vanished. Before she could ask he explained, "I said I was washing it for you, remember, dear?"

Joy had a rare look of embarrassment before shifting to relief as she approached him. "Unfortunately it had completely slipped my mind."

"Happens to the best of us," he said before kissing her forehead and tying her signature bandanna back on. "Try not to get it so bloody this time, alright?"

 

  * Drunk/sloppy kiss



Most of them were loud, excited, and happy drunks, while Sorrow seemed to be stuck with the curse of being a perpetually sad drunk. That was why they were all having a grand time laughing and singing while he was off to the side with his muddled up brain thinking about how everything was so awful.

"Baaabe, come on over!" Joy called to him at one point, "c'mon, you can't mope all night!"

All he offered was a mumbled, "watch me."

Drunk Joy was even more stubborn than regular Joy, however, so after apparently not hearing him she went and tried to drag him up right. "Pleeeeease, baby? Promise you'll have fun."

"Being loud is not fun," he replied before pulling his arm back and turning even more towards the wall. But then he was looking at Joy, because she’d plopped down next to him.

"What can I do t'cheer you up, sweetie?" she asked, reaching out to clumsily push his hair aside.

Sorrow didn't even bother replying, nothing would be enough to distract him from his pity party. At least, nothing Joy could offer him - he didn't get to finish the thought because in the next second she was pulling him into a kiss that wasn't entirely on his mouth, but was surprisingly passionate nevertheless.

Strangely, once he started returning her affection everything felt less horrible and terrible.

 

  * Awkward kiss



The unit was still green, everyone just starting to make their respective friends and rivals, and the not-yet-feared Joy was stuck trying to get a persistent Major to take a fucking hint already. She couldn't care less about how many people he had killed or his greasy mustache that he was "subtly" trying to draw her attention to. Every inch of her wanted to crush his balls and tell him to eat shit, but she couldn't afford to get them all in that much trouble.

"Yes, that sounds like it must have been quite a challenge," Joy said, struggling not to roll her eyes.

"Oh, you have no idea, sweetie," he chuckled, "my men would have been a buncha crying babies if I hadn't been there to give orders. Saved each and every one of their lives that day. They all _insist_ I deserve an award, but I'm not in it for the decoration, you know? I'm just doing my job, serving my country. Although that reminds me of another story -"

Absolutely not. Joy looked for something, anything to use to get out, and to her relief she set sight on an option walking towards them. "Oh, hello there, dear!" she said loud enough to make Sorrow look up, and before he could react she pulled him forward by his sweater and kissed him. "Major, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend - um, Ivan," she said with a large grin, her arms around the still shocked Sorrow protectively.

The man looked them up and down for a minute skeptically, but must have bought it as he grunted, "uhuh, nice to meet you. Think I'm gonna go get back to my work, actually."

They said their goodbyes and as soon as he had walked far enough away she let go of Sorrow, coughed awkwardly, and said, "um, sorry about that, had to get him off my ass somehow."

He nodded and stammered, "n - no, uh, I understand, it's fine."

Joy wondered for awhile after they parted ways why Sorrow had been blushing /that much/ after their kiss.

 

  * Angry kiss



"Why can't you just drop this already? I can't go back and change it. Besides it was once and I'm still alive! That'd all that matters!" Joy said, obviously struggling not to shout at him.

"Because it isn't just _once_ , Joy, it's never been once. You do this all the time!" he insisted, "you always take the jobs that put you in the most danger! You say you trust all of us, then why aren't Fury or Pain putting their lives on the line like that? You know they would be happy to."

She slammed a folder down on her desk. "We all put our lives on the line when we're on a mission, you know that! Don't act like this is somehow different."

"But it is! There's always a chance we can die, you're right, but there's a difference between getting shot by a stray bullet and running into a burning building to grab a file! That's practically suicide!"

"Funny how I'm still here, isn't it?" she snapped, "I know what I'm doing, Sorrow. I can't believe you out of everyone is fucking questioning how capable I am."

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, saying, " _I'm not questioning anything, Joy._ I know how skilled you are but - but you can't control everything! Every time you do something like this I'm scared to death something is going to happen to you! And if it did I don't - I just don't know what I would do." As she turned to look at him, another response already forming on her lips, he took a gamble and roughly kissed her. "I love you, Joy, I love you with all my heart and soul. I'm just scared your luck is going to run out if you keep pushing it."

She gave him a serious look for several moments, but then her face softened. "I understand, love. You know there's no way I can't be in danger," she started, "but...well, maybe I do push it a little. I'll definitely think about it, alright?"

He smiled weakly and nodded. "That's all I'm asking."  



	4. Joy/Sorrow kiss prompts 2

  * “I’m sorry” kiss



"You really think I'm difficult?" he asked quietly.

She hadn't put it that nicely when the words slipped out earlier, but Joy wasn't about to correct him. "No, it isn’t like that at all, really! I just…I was just angry and I wasn’t doing a good job of keeping my emotions in check, so I lashed out at other people. And the nearest person was you.”

Sorrow still didn’t look at her or offer a reply, and she sighed. Logical thinking worked for her but it didn’t for him as he was more emotional. Sometimes communicating with him was difficult because of that, but it was never his fault. She took a seat next to him, not as close as she would have liked, and continued, “I really am sorry, love. I never meant to hurt you.”

After another pause he spoke, “...I know you didn’t mean to.”

But she still did. “I mean everything, Mishka,” Joy insisted, leaning down so he could practically see her, “you’re not difficult. Sometimes I do need to be more patient with you than the others, but that isn’t a bad thing. They just respond to yelling and punching, and you respond to patience and nurturing. That’s all, dear.”

To her relief, he glanced up at her after that and looked a little less like a sad puppy. “You’re sure?”

She offered him a smile and leaned forward for a quick kiss. “Positive, darling.”

 

 

  * “I’ve missed you” kiss



It was the longest time they had been apart in...well, ever, he realized. Granted, it was only a month, but to a lovesick fool like himself it felt like a lifetime. They exchanged letters as often as possible, which wasn’t nearly enough, and for once in their lives they didn’t have a lot of work, making the month drag on. Today was the day Joy was finally coming back from her solo mission in Paris, though. Sorrow almost couldn’t contain his excitement and even the units snickering at him wasn’t going to bring down his mood. Any minute she would walk through the doors and he was going to be the first one to meet her, no question about it.

“Want me to tell her you’ve been sleeping with her letters?” Fear teased while Sorrow made yet another lap around the room, “and doing more than that with them I’m sure, eh?”

He shot a glare at his teammate, replying, “you know I wouldn’t -! Never mind, she wouldn’t believe you.”

That earned another round of chuckles, and Sorrow went back to pacing. “Relax, would ya? You’re gonna wear a trench in the floor, if you’re heavy enough to,” Fury said, blowing smoke in Sorrow’s face as he passed.

“Yes, I get it, you’re all very funny,” he grumbled, stopping to frown at the group, “what do you expect? I’m going to sit around like the rest of you and act like I don’t care? Oh, of course, I didn’t even notice Joy was gone. She could have stayed another few months and it would have been all the same to me -”

“Really? Aw, I’m hurt.”

Sorrow spun around to see Joy’s smile and completely forgot about the conversation. It only took a second to throw himself at her, her strong arms wrapping around him in response. They kissed and spun until they were both dizzy, and even then were too giddy to stop. When they did finally part though, she pulled back and laughed, “I missed you too, lovely.”


	5. Fear and Fury go shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is like 1.5k it's not really a ficlet but I'm too lazy to make this it's own fic. Also not proofed very much at all so have fun with that

“‘Team building exercise’,” Fury muttered to himself, hauling the bag over his shoulder higher up. “What bullshit. Would it kill her to just fucking admit she's sick of our - no, _your_ shit, and wanted some quiet.”

Fear had apparently been too stupid to make the connection to their being sent out for provisions or just didn't care, because he looked as carefree as ever while shrugging and replying, “probably ‘cause she likes sounding professional. And come on, _my_ shit? I recall you falling for it pretty easily, _Druya._ ”

Fury’s fist came so close to colliding with his head that he felt the hair of his knuckles brush his cheek. Too close, Fear needed to be be faster or tread lighty.

“I told you not to fucking call me that! God - this is exactly what I mean! Can't you stop being a steaming pile of _shit_ for a single minute? Are you literally unable to be bothering someone every waking moment of your useless fucking existence?” Fury asked through gritted teeth.

Fear let a wide grin slip onto his lips and shrugged again. “I hate to break it to you, but I'm pretty sure you're the problem here,” he said, “every little thing makes you flip shit. what do you want me to do, walk on eggshells? Come on, it's bad enough having to do that with your brother.”

This time he wasn't punched, but shoved roughly enough to make him stumble onto the street.

“Leave him out of this, shitstain,” Fury hissed before turning back to the sidewalk. Fear waited for him to go on, only to be met with a seething silence.

Alright, it wasn't like this was any sort of news to Fury. Sorrow had lectured him more than once on the importance of not wanting to beat the shit out of everything that mildly irritated him, and he _was_ trying not to. But did anyone notice? No. All because of the grinning embarrassment next to him that made a sport out of terrorizing everyone he came into contact with.

If they came back from this without black eyes however, Joy might finally cut him some slack. At least he hoped.

Halfway through trying to remember all the stupid breathing exercises people had tried to teach him Fear spoke up again. “Hey, we can probably get some shit over there.”

Following Fear’s gaze lead him to a market across the street and he sighed in relief. “Thank god. Yeah, probably,” he said, nodding.

Inside the gate the market was too loud and too crowded, but they sure as hell weren't walking another twenty blocks just to find somewhere better. “Alright, ground rules. Don't leave my sight, don't touch anything we aren't buying, and for the love of _god_ don't do anything to get us kicked out. Think you can do that?”

Fear waved a hand dismissively, almost cutting him off with a series of, “yeah, yeah, yeah. Sheesh, when did’ya get so bossy? I wanna get this done as fast as you do.”

“I really fucking doubt that. Come on, let's just go,” he sighed.

Most of the items on the list Joy had given them were labeled optional or had “something like” in front of them, which only made it that much more obvious this was an errand to get them out of her hair. Although it was pretty fucking irritating, Fury wouldn't let it get to him. Not today.

The first half hour passed with little more than having to tell Fear to put something back. They'd managed to find empty jars for Pain, seeds for End’s bird, a few books for Sorrow (which weren't actually on the list, but they weren't going to be able to find half this shit anyway), and a few other random things Joy had requested. As much of a pain in the ass as the other soldier was, Fury was grateful to have someone taller with him, and they were - dare he say - getting along decently. It gave him hope that this was going to go well. And they probably would have if Fear could not be horrible all the time.

“Hey, check it out! I think I'd make a pretty juicy French chick.”

Fury turned around to find Fear modeling a small, colorful hat in front of a mirror and he sighed. “Yeah, maybe if you weren't as ugly as sin,” he replied, reaching for the hat and glaring when it was moved out of reach, “Now take that off. Christ, can't you at least play with something we can afford?”

Fear stood up taller, completely out of Fury's reach, and teased, “What, too short to reach it? Come on, chill out, I'm just dicking around, it's not hurting anything.”

“Yeah, okay, and you had your fun. Put it back and let's just fucking go already,” he said more forcefully.

With a flick of the wrist the hat was pulled from atop his head and he twirled it around his finger, backing away as he did to keep it away from Fury. “What's the rush? We're already halfway done, I think you need to just relax a little, my dude,” Fear teased, “What's the worst that could happen?”

“I'm serious, you need to stop -”

“You know, maybe if you could just take a deep breath, loosen up…”

“Fear -!”

“...we could actually get along and -” Before he could finish Fear found himself tumbling into a pothole filled with muddy water, taking a young with him with his flailing.

Everyone's reaction was instant. The man selling expensive hats flew over to them, outraged, the woman's husband was shouting and out for blood, and bystanders caught by the splashing mud were cursing at the both of them.

Fury cursed under his breath and pulled Fear up, only to growl, “Now you've done it. Get the fuck out of here before you make anything worse!” Once the colossal pain in his ass was out of sight he set to work trying to apologize to the small angry mob that had formed.

 

******

 

The sun stood in the middle of the sky by the time he finally made it out of the market hot, tired, and almost completely devoid of money and groceries.

The money they had left didn't even come close to covering the cost of the ruined hat, but the shopkeeper took it and with obvious exasperation told him to just go. Despite his shaky grasp of French he knew full well the husband of the woman who had fell was cursing him back and forth, and Fury was still amazed he found the patience not to fight him. Instead he gave the more useful things they had bought to the wife in the hopes to cheer her up.

And now, as if his day couldn't get any worse, he found that for once in his stupid life Fear had actually waited outside. If he cared at all about everything that had just happened it didn't show it in the slightest.

“Talk about a buncha assholes,” Fear scoffed, “A little dirty water is the end of the world. Whatever. Can we go back now? I'm getting hungry.”

Teeth clenched and knuckles white, Fury tossed the empty the near sack at Fear and said, “You want to go back with that? No money, no shit?”

He considered the bag for a moment, looked back up, and shrugged. “Yeah? Why not?”

Usually when something snapped in Fury, it was the thing that made him pissed off enough to break someone's nose or put a nice hole in the wall. And he was pissed off now too, that was for sure, but there was something else there. The best way he could describe it was soul smothering despair.

“That's it? That's all you have to say!?” he asked just shy of shouting, “We can't even do Joy’s fucking shopping and you don't care? You're just - you're _fine_ with her thinking you're an incompetent shithead? Doesn't bother you at all that she's never going to fucking trust us with anything if we can't even do _THIS?_ I mean, fuck it, why am I even surprised?” He could already feel himself regretting this, like a barrel held right to his neck, but there wasn't any stopping now.

“Every single time I try to do something right, you fuck it up. Even if it has nothing to do with you!” Fury continued, “Do you know how hard I'm trying to _not_ get pissed off all the time? Pretty fucking hard! And I do a great job until _you_ decide it's time to just get under Fury’s skin for shits and giggles, then I'm the bad guy for going off on you! All I want to do is just show Joy that I'm not a fucking bum, I'm actually putting some goddamn effort in and I'm trustworthy, you know? But no, every time -”

“Sorry.”

His train of thought crashed and burned immediately, and he was left staring blankly at Fear. Something must be in his ears, there wasn't any way he'd just heard that. “Wh...what did you say?” Fury asked after a second.

“I'm sorry, alright?” Fear repeated with some effort. "Look, I get it. Wanting to make Joy proud, or whatever. All of our asses would still be stuck in shit if it weren't for her, it'd be shitty if she thought she wasn't doin’ a good job.”

On the list of things that Fury absolutely didn't think possible, Fear showing any sort of sympathy had to be in the top three and try as he might he couldn't think of a response. So instead he kept staring, slack jawed, while Fear shuffled awkwardly and waited for a reply.

When he didn’t get one, he sighed and continued, “What I’m trying to say is, I’ll be less of an ass, alright? Not for a jackass like you, just for Joy.”

“You - you’re fucking serious?” Fury asked once he found his voice.

“Do I sound serious to you? ...Don’t I? Isn’t this what it sounds like to be serious?” Fear asked, sounding so genuinely confused that Fury couldn’t help laughing.

“Yeah, you really sound like you’re expressing a real, human emotion,” he replied. “I’ll be honest, I don’t like it.”

Shoulders slumped in relief at the change in atmosphere, the taller man gave a short laugh of his own. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. Now can we get the hell out of here already?”

“Alright, alright, fine.” Part of him was still reeling from the last half of that conversation, but at the very least Fury could agree to that.

They set off after that, both fully aware they were going to get their ass kicked and put on bathroom duty for another month and trying hard not to think about that. Even if they had fucked this up, Fury thought, they seemed to have reached some sort of weird understanding in the process. Hopefully.


	6. Rain falls over a quiet conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set early during the unit's formation

A ghost, ironically, is the best way to describe him. He rarely speaks, always looks pale as the moon, and sightings of him are few and far between. At least, they are if one doesn’t know where to look. It’s taken some time but Joy now has a good idea of where to find him at any given time whether he likes it or not.

Tonight for example, the air outside is cooler than it’s been in days and a light rain pours on the building. She deduces from this that he’s sitting against the building under the rafters, doing nothing other than sitting and watching the rain. He always speaks as though he prefers the company of his thoughts but as time goes on she's beginning to think that's not the case - which is exactly why she decides to seek him out.

Sure enough he's there, legs tucked against his chest and eyes fixed on something distant.

“It's a bit chilly to just be sitting out here, you know,” she calls with the hope of not startling him.

Sorrow shakes his head. “I like it. It feels…” he pauses, struggling for the word. “Familiar, I suppose. Like home.”

Joy takes a seat next to him, not too close, but closer than last time. “I was in your home for awhile and it was definitely not like this. No offense, but I think ‘frozen hell’ describes that experience better.” She hopes for a laugh, even the slightest chuckle, but he only shrugs.

“You visited in the dead of winter - hell wishes it could be that cold. It's like this in the spring and summer.” He looks like he's going to continue, but notices the blanket in her lap and raises his brow.

“Oh - I brought this for you,” she explains, handing it off to him, “Thought you might want it.”

It takes a moment before he wraps it around his shoulders, saying softly, “Thank you.”

“Don't mention it.”

A comfortable pause draws out between them. This used to be the time where he’d find some excuse to leave, and instead he looks almost relaxed next to her. It’s such a relieving sight, she doesn’t even notice she’s smiling until he turns to her and looks puzzled.

“What is it?”

“Uh, nothing, nothing,” she replies quickly, glancing away. “It’s just, it looks like you’re finally starting to feel settled in here. I’m glad.”

Sorrow blinks at her as though still confused. “Oh. I...I think I am, yes,” he replies, “It’s - strange, still. I think the others are startling to like me more too. Well, not Fear, so much. I don’t think he likes me at all.”

“Fear likes people he just has a very...unique, way of showing it,” Joy explains, only to follow up with, “And by that I mostly mean he’s an asshole and I don’t think he knows what to do with other people. Or what he  _ should _ do, anyway. What I mean is, just ignore him.” For the time being she’s at her own wits-end about what to do with that guy, let alone how everyone else should deal with him. 

“I see. I understand, I think.” 

She let’s herself grin again and leans forward, making sure he’s looking at her. “Besides, I definitely like you, so just remember that, okay?” 

There’s something there, an unmistakable smile forming on solemn lips. “I will. Thank you.”

They smile at each other for a moment more before he turns back to the rain and she does the same. She has nothing more to speak with him about for the moment and let’s the conversation drop off. He’s not the sort of person one always needs to talk to - sometimes it’s enough to sit in a peaceful silence in each other's company. 


	7. Just let The Pain do his gardening

“...Is it bad to kind of miss someone who wasn’t even good to you?” Sorrow keeps his gaze pointed towards the distance, looking through the physical world. 

Pain kneels nearby, pulling weeds from the small garden since no one else wants to bother. At the question he pauses and looks around to find no one else with them. Unfortunately the conversation is being struck up with him. “Depends on why you miss them, I guess,” he replies as he goes back to work.

The medium doesn’t reply for a minute and Pain thinks maybe he’s decided to drop the conversation. It would be best, he’s the last person anyone should ask for advice on these things and Sorrow should know that. 

But finally his companion continues, “It’s...I know she didn’t treat me well. But, for a while we had fun, you know? We really got along and had a lot in common. Sometimes it feels like I can’t even remember what she did that was so bad, all I can think is that I let a good friendship go to waste because I wasn’t patient enough...or it fell apart because I was the bad friend.” He stops to laugh, but it’s laced with a bitter tone. “God, what makes it worse is if someone were telling me this I’d know exactly why, it’s what I fucking went to school for, but when it’s myself it feels like it’s  _ different _ somehow.”

The beekeeper sighs and leans back on his heels, taking the moment to wipe sweat from his brow. “Just because you know why something happens doesn’t mean you can fix it. I know why it rains but I can’t tell the water cycle to stop.”

“But it’s not like...hm. Actually, that’s not a bad analogy,” Sorrow admits. “Still, I feel like an ass for caring about this when it’s pretty clear she doesn’t.”

He makes a face and looks back at the medium, asking, “Let me get this straight: this woman was an ass to you, you’re positive she doesn’t care about you, and you feel like you threw away a good friendship?”

Snapping out of his aimless gaze he turns to meet Pain’s gaze and throws his arms up in exasperation. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about! It’s ridiculous,” he says before sighing and looking away again. “Like I said, I know she didn’t treat me well in the end, and hell I was more upset about breaking off our friendship than she was even though I was the one that did it. It’s just…” The words trail off and his voice lowers before he finishes, “I just miss the times we got along.”

“Hm.” He turns back to the flowers to make sure the other Cobra doesn’t see his confusion. What the hell is he supposed to say to that? ‘ Stop antagonizing yourself over everything and get over it ‘ comes to mind first, but he can almost hear Joy in his head telling him being blunt won’t help him make friends. Not with this one, anyway. A bumble bee lands on his hand and he loses his train of thought as he examines it instead. The bee takes off and Pain decides he can’t solve any problems, but he can offer a happier thought at least. 

“You get along with all of us, right?” He finally asks, pulling up another plant.

“...It may depend on how you want to describe ‘ get along ‘,” Sorrow replies with a light laugh. “For the most part I think so.”

Pain sighs and says, “Look just - not including Fear. What I mean is, you’ve got all of us now, and we’re not assholes to you. Hell, it sounds like you and the boss get along better than you ever did with that woman, so don’t worry about one person who couldn’t be bothered to keep a good friend.” 

That must work because he hears the medium laugh once, followed by, “Joy’s really been on your ass about being nice, huh?” 

“I can give you the mean answer if you want."

“No, no - the first answer is fine, I’ll take that,” he says quickly. “...Thank you for listening, too. I do feel better.”

Great, now he’s a certified therapist. As long as it doesn’t become common knowledge he can live with it. “Don’t mention it to anyone. I mean that.

Sorrow laughs again and nods, replying, “It’s the least I can do.”


	8. Anniversary

A haphazardly wrapped package drops onto the couch next to Sorrow, and he looks up from his book to see Joy standing above him, arms hidden behind her back. “Happy anniversary, love.”

He opens his mouth to protest but she cuts him off with, “Don’t you even start. If I said you didn’t have to get me anything you would, right? The same applies to you. Now open that or I’m going to open it for you and make you appreciate it.”

There’s no arguing with that, so he laughs and picks up the gift. “Alright, alright, I get the message,” he says, pulling away the paper. Beneath the wrapping lay dark fabric, and he held it up to get a good look at it. “A raincoat?”

“You needed one,” she says, “And you needed it so we can match.” At that she pulls a poncho from behind her back, a triumphant grin on her face.

A smile spreads across his own lips as she flops down on the couch next to him and kisses his cheek. “I love it, Sasha, it’s a thoughtful gift.” 

“Believe me, it didn’t need much thought. You love to go out in the rain without an umbrella and constantly catch colds, and I love to wear matching things with you so no one gets any bright ideas about hitting on you.” Her eyes narrow and she leans closer, to add softly, “Don’t think this is all I have planned, either. This is just the gift you can tell other people about.”

Blood rushes to his cheeks and he looks away from her with a sheepish laugh. “You’re going to make me look bad, all I have for you is some poetry and flowers...and the poems aren’t exactly done yet. Sorry about that,” he apologizes. 

She reaches up to brush a lock of hair from his face and gently tugs on his chin to draw his gaze back. “Don’t worry about it, okay, Misha? Take all the time you need.” There’s a pause between words so she can kiss his lips, lingering against them before continuing. “Besides, I think it’s raining so we can go try these out together. How does that sound?”

“That sounds wonderful,” he replies, meeting her lips one more time before they both get up. Once the coat is on his shoulders (and to his delight, comfortably oversized) he grabs Joy’s hand to draw her attention back to him for a moment. “Hey - happy anniversary, Sasha. I love you.”

He’s given the sweetest smile in return before she replies, “I love you too.”


	9. Evolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unfinished fic as I ran out of ideas for one-off chapters. Just a short illustration of Sorrow's progression from when joining the unit to slightly later on.

**i.**

  
He honestly doesn’t remember why he’s here, or if he was ever told at all. What remained of his grip on the present was just enough to keep him aware of the room he’s been moved to. It’s small, with filing cabinets lining the wall, and a table with two chairs facing each other on opposite sides. Vaguely, he thinks he used to know what this room was used for, and now it appears set up for some sort of meeting. Some amount of time passes that he can’t gauge. His mind wanders back into fog until the door opens.

  
A woman walks in, young, blonde hair, distinctly not from this place. He looks at her until their eyes meet, and he quickly drops his gaze. She introduces herself, explains her job, something about the war ( apparently it’s escalated since he’s last heard ). She says she’s putting together a specialized unit and she knows about how abilities, says that she thinks he could be a great asset to the unit should he agree to go with her. The details are lost on him. All that sticks is there is war, widespread death beyond the walls of this godforsaken place, and she wants him to join.

  
Only when silence drags out does he realize she’s waiting on him to answer. He can’t bring himself to meet her eyes. Admittedly, he gives the idea little thought before responding, voice hoarse, “I’m not a soldier.”

  
“I know that.” Her voice is so kind it hurts. “I’m not looking for a soldier. Anyone can learn basic self-defense and how to handle a firearm, and the rest of the unit would ensure your safety should you need to join us on the field. As I said, your role would be intelligence; behind the scenes work.”

  
It sounds too good to be true. He can’t imagine returning to the living from his near ghostly state, wavering somewhere on the blurred lines between living and dead. Someone like him doesn’t deserve the offer. Someone had it worse, someone was better suited for the position, he ought to be someone else, he’s not sure where the train of thought is going beside devolving into nonsense. All he knows is part of him wants her to leave, and some part of him wants to take a chance and agree.

  
“Mikhail?”

  
They’ve been sitting in silence again. Somehow, he brings his head up enough to view her expression. She’s...actually concerned. About him. For once someone isn’t giving him a look of disdain, or disinterest. It makes his stomach flip and his gaze drop and yet, suddenly, he feels as though he has his voice back. He isn’t going to be brushed aside when he speaks. “Sorry. I...I don’t quite know what to say,” the words pour out, slowly but honestly. “It.. I never thought someone would just, walk in and offer to let me leave.” Let alone offer him anything, rather than simply make him. He wonders why she didn’t just pick him up and drag him off to her unit.

  
“It’s alright, I’m not in a rush. My plane won’t be leaving until tomorrow -” she pauses, bringing them back to the topic with, “Our plane, if that’s what you decide.”

  
Tomorrow. He could leave in a day. Hell, they could probably leave right after they finished speaking, if he asks. The thought makes his heart race. It takes a moment, one he’s aware of and doesn’t allow to stretch into minutes, for him to respond again. “If.. if you’re sure. Um,” he stops to give her a look, the first one that isn’t a hollowed expression. “Do you have any questions for me, or anything? I have a difficult time believing the information you found was enough -- or entirely accurate.”

  
Her expression glows, resolve likely renewed by his now active role in the conversation. She pulls out a folder and begins flipping through pages he can’t quite get a look at. “Yes! I have plenty of questions, and I’m sure you do as well. Is there anything you would like to know, to begin with?”

  
One question does occur to him, the realization causing him to duck his head and fidget in embarrassment. It cannot go ignored, unfortunately. “Uhm, j - just one, for now,” he replies, “I, uh, didn’t really..catch your name.”

  
He’s met with a short laugh, and a thankfully not offended, “It’s Alexandra.”

  
That’s a nice name, he thinks.

  
Another hour passes, he thinks, before they come to an agreement: He joins her unit if she gets him out that day. Those were his only conditions, although she insisted they would spend the rest of the day getting him cleaned up, buying new sets of clothes, and doing anything else he wanted. By 9AM the next day, he was on his way to another country, feeling more human than he had in years.

  
**ii.**

  
His name is Sorrow now. The emotion that had plagued him from birth now serves as his motivation, the reminder he carries with him that the war needs to come to an end. Although not spending every day in a depressed haze, disassociating to the point where several months passed without notice, he still feels uneasy in his skin. He's not sure if he's someone new, or someone old returning, or some unbalanced mix of the two. It weighs heavy on his shoulders and despite time passing he feels like he's dancing on wire; it would take only a gust of wind to plunge him back into a nearly lifeless state. But he keeps going, no matter how depressed he may still be. He keeps trying, if only to repay the person that saw through the shroud of misery into who he was.

  
One day she's looking at him again, along with the other members of their unit. Or perhaps, staring is a better word. Sorrow becomes painfully aware of himself and all but forget the train of conversation to stare back with clear discomfort. “...W - what? What did I do?”

  
No one wants to speak up first, until Fear finally breaks the silence of burst out, “You actually laughed.” In a rare moment, the man sounded taken off guard.

  
The response only confuses him further. “Wh...what do you mean?”

  
Fury laughs, shakes his head, and pulls out a new cigarette. “Buddy, you haven't cracked a smile since you got here. Out of all of us, you live up to your name the best,” he replies after blowing out a puff of smoke.

  
The following look of disbelief is enough of a response for the old man to chime in with, “He's right, you know. I've been trying.”

  
“Don't look so surprised - you didn't even talk to us for like, what, two months? I was fuckin’ floored when Joy told me you had a personality at all -” Fear is cut off mid-sentence by a smack to the back of his head.

  
“What's he's trying to say,” Joy picks up the conversation in her ‘ don't test me child ‘ tone, “Is that he's glad you're finally feeling comfortable around us enough to relax and have fun.” Her gaze turns to Sorrow, expression softened in a way that sends fluttering in his stomach. “I'm also glad you're feeling better. I know it's been a difficult adjustment after everything, and I'm...I'm glad you stuck around with us.”

  
In the second rare display of the day, he smiles at her, something soft and shy. “I'm glad too.” There's so much more he wants to say to her. He's so much more than glad for everything she's done for him, for the patience she's had, the lengths she's gone to help him - but he can't bring himself to blurt it out in front of everyone. Even if he could, an arm suddenly throws itself around his shoulder and the train of thought dissolves as he stiffens.

  
“Yeah, yeah, what she said. So, since you're suddenly some social butterfly, who's up for some poker? Strip poker, perhaps?” Fear offers with a distinct wink at Fury. The other man only rolls his eyes.  
“In your fucking dreams, weirdo. I'd rather get naked in front of the beehive.”

  
At the mention of his nickname, Pain glares up at the two, grumbling, “Don't bring me into this just ‘cause you're afraid of losing.”

  
His words are enough to spur a ( somewhat ) friendly argument between the three regarding nakedness and dicks, a conversation Sorrow is happy to stay out of. But still, he watches in amusement. He even cracks another smile and shares it with Joy, who returns the grin.

  
**iii.**

  
There is a line he cannot yet determine where it should be, where he shall cross, where a decision must be made. The decision to harm another for the sake of his comrades - his friends. Thinking of taking another's life fills him with such dread he feels paralyzed in place, as does the thought of losing someone so dear due to his own cowardliness. There is a line drawn on the ground in pouring rain, stepped over by the footfalls of countless others before him. Sorrow isn't sure whether he crosses it or not and in the moment he pulls the trigger on his weapon he doesn't care.

  
The man falls before him and all eyes fall to the man that had no business being there.

  
It's enough of a distraction, allowing Fear and Fury to easily overtake the remaining guards through kicks and headbutts alone. Sorrow hurries to free them from the rope bounding their wrists. He doesn't check on the man bleeding on the floor.

  
Fury begins to ask a question he never hears the end of, as it's cut off by the sound of his own voice. "Follow me - they're going to sound alarms soon. There's an old tunnel around here we can use to get out without being noticed." Hopefully.

  
The voice of a long dead engineer whispers words of instruction into his ears, a times being allowed to drift inside his own consciousness so that he may understand the visuals of what they're looking for. For someone who grew up insisting he would never channel, the ability only caused him grief and horrible bouts of disassociation, he's learned how to control it with precision. He is both the puppet and puppeteer, pulling and strings and dancing between half-tangible forms, taking away only what he needs for the moment.

  
Both men quickly realize that questioning the medium is pointless and puts them in danger of being caught. So, they shut up and follow wordlessly behind. By the time Sorrow reaches them he has a fairly reliable mental map of the building, as though it's a place he hasn't visited in years but still faintly remembers. Between that and the wordless warnings from specters they make it to the tunnel and out of the building without being caught.

  
"I don't know where Joy and the other's are - I haven't had any radio signal for awhile," he explains, tone still hushed as they move outside of the building, "I'm sure we could meet them at the rendezvous point if we start heading that way -"

  
He's stopped by a hand clapping his shoulder. "Relax, kid, we got it.You don't gotta worry your pretty little head anymore." The nickname usually said with irritation or exasperation is, for once, said in a friendly tone. Fury's expression reflects such, as he gives the medium nod of approval.

  
"Okay - really, why the hell are you here to save us? How the fuck did you find us?" Fear blurts out once they make it a few yards away from the tunnel exit.

  
Sorrow blinks at him, before shrugging, and looking away to hide his face. "I...it was a spur of the moment decision, sort of. I was still in the building, I couldn't just leave both of you, even if it was to go and find Joy. I'm not as useless as you think I am."

  
He surprises himself with the last words out of his mouth, and by the looks of the other two they share the feeling. But it's true. He isn't as useless as he thinks he is, not anymore. Although passive by nature he is not passive to a fault. The realization hits him at a time entirely too inappropriate to celebrate his newfound competence, but it doesn't stop his teammates.  
Fury laughs, shakes his head, and agrees, "Y'know, you're right. I gotta give it to you, you're not some annoying crybaby anymore. It's about damn time."

  
"And yet, you still can't manage to say something nicely. We all grow at different rates, I suppose," Sorrow replies.

  
It is meant as a compliment, though, he knows, and takes it as such.


	10. Ghost Science

“So, do dogs have souls?”

“I mean..it’s…kind of.”

The man bolts upright, suddenly much more interested in the conversation. “Fucking seriously? You’re not kidding?”

Sorrow rolls his eyes and closes his book. “Why would I be kidding?”

“Dunno. I guess I expected you to say no. What do you mean by kinda?” Fear presses. 

“It’s...not like, human souls, they’re not as…” he struggles for the word, “Powerful? They have a presence and they can have ghosts, but only rarely. My theory is that what places power in the souls of animals is how strong their bond is with another spirit is, whether it’s human or animal -”

“So, do cats have souls then?”

Sorrow’s shoulders slump and he gives Fear a  _ look _ . “Why would cats not have souls if dogs do?”

The shrug given in response is as nonchalant as the following reply of, “Dunno, just asking.” 

A pause lingers, long enough for the medium to think he may be able to go back to reading. It’s not that the conversation bothers him particularly; of course he enjoys the company on a nice day where neither seems to have anything better to do than sit in the grass. Rather, it’s just annoying to be stopped in the middle of a paragraph for what feels like incredibly silly questions. After giving the other man another glance he reopens the book and manages to get a few more lines down before the silence is broken again.

“So, if animals get ghosts from having close bonds or whatever, are people the same way? Like, what has to happen for you to become a ghost?” 

The question takes him by surprise and he blinks over at Fear. “Suddenly concerned about your own mortality, or something?” 

He shrugs again. “Nah, just curious.”

“Well, alright,” Sorrow starts, this time placing the book on the grass next to him before continuing, “Honestly that’s the thing I would have  _ liked _ to study, or at least try to, before, well…” he gestures to the air, “Everything. But, in my experience it can be multiple things. Mostly the stereotypical unfinished business keeping someone tied to the world of the living, or similarly if say, a parent died before their child they would want to stay and watch over the child. Other than that, what can often happen is when someone dies violently or suddenly they sort of...don’t realize they’re dead. Imagine just sort of becoming aware that everything around you is the same but different in a way you can’t place. What can happen then is the ghost becomes sort of disillusioned, or in other words they can’t even fathom that they’ve died.” 

“That why battlefields have so many ghosts?” Fear interrupts to ask. 

Sorrow frowns, running a hand over his hair as he chews the thought over. “Yes and no. That’s half of it, I think. Although sometimes people who die suddenly don’t realize they’re dead, the other half of the time they’re sort of...grieving for themselves. Or sometimes they’re angry over what happened.” Those are mostly his own guesses. Gods knew even if he could set foot on any of the recent mass graves it wasn’t as though he could hold interviews with the departed. “...This is all assuming you’re a sentient spirit, as well, rather than just an actual ghost.”

Upon looking over he finds Fear appears engrossed by the explanation, strange, reptilian eyes meeting his own. “What’dya mean by that? What’s an actual ghost?” he prompts when the medium pauses. 

“A spirit would just be your own soul lingering on earth, whereas a ghost is just sort of, an imprint of a person. It’s an emotionally charged moment just kind of, left behind in an area. Like how there might be multiple people saying they saw a ghost walk down a hallway at three in the morning, that probably isn’t a sentient spirit, but a ghost of someone who lived in that building reliving the moment. A moving photograph taken in time that’s just played back until the energy fades away,” he explains, hesitating before adding, “It’s...kind of strange for me to experience. Whatever the ghost is doing I can't interact, but if I stand on or next to them I just get a feeling of what's happening for them. It's usually not a good thing.”

Fear just nods, now looking back out to the sun bathed landscape in front of them. “All the ghost shit must be really weird. I always try to imagine what it looks like but I don't think I'm right. It's like a fuckin’, sixth sense, right? I dunno how the hell to picture it other than dudes in sheets running around.”

“Yeah, basically,” Sorrow opts to reply rather than explain it more thoroughly. “Imagine that, but there's no sheets, also they're all made of fog and they never leave you alone.”

Strangely, Fear doesn't answer right away. His eyes squint slightly as though deep into a thought. It goes on long enough that the medium almost feels compelled to ask what's on his mind, when the question finally comes out: “So, like...do the ghosts watch when you fuck someone? Or you're just jerking off in the shower or some -”

By the time the man looks back Sorrow has already stood up and began walking back to camp. 

“Aw, come on dude, don't leave me hanging like this!” he calls out. 

Sorrow just waves a hand dismissively, replying back, “Not today, Fear.”


	11. Prompt: Fear

Night is the perfect time for people with restless minds and bodies to wander, Fear has learned. Few around to judge or bother him, no one to make faces or avoid him, the only possible drawback being the lingering feeling of loneliness in an empty corridor ( also that he  _ technically _ is supposed to be in his unit’s quarters; curfew or bedtime or some shit, but dropping Joy’s name is almost always enough to absolve the rule. ) In tonight’s case the pickings are especially ripe for curious eyes: the building is big, old, and at the moment sparsely filled. 

The only sound to accompany the late night expedition is an occasional rattling from some inner working of the structure, and the patter of light rain on the windows. It offsets the dim halls with an eerie vibe the Cobra digs. Or it’s what he tells himself while strolling down an especially short hallway that ends in a window overlooking complete darkness. It’s cool the way sounds are few and far between, and tend to be muted. The hair standing on the back of his neck as he passes black windows and branching paths is totally the bees knees. That feeling knotting in his gut that he’s not the only person up at four in the morning? It kind of sucks, actually, but he presses onward, not particularly driven by anything. 

To actually feel fear, anxiety, anything of the sort, it’s foreign to him. By walking on in the maze of tunnels and corners, noticing with each passing step that sometimes hallways don’t even have doors, a lot of them don’t, actually, it’s indulgent. Somewhere far behind him he hears knocking and swallows hard. He needs to find better indulgences, Fear thinks idly as he turns another corner.

Deciding what’s most unsettling would be an impossible task. The windows only open onto blank sheets of darkness but somehow emit a faint light, the only thing that keeps him from being completely blind. More and more he’s aware of how random door placement is; some appear between two windows, some placed back to back, he even saw one on the ceiling in one hallway. A few times he dares to reach out and turn the freezing cold handles of the doors, always to find them locked. Part of him is relieved to know he couldn’t enter them if he tried. And again there are still muffled noises; banging, crashing, all faint and from different directions. What makes his heart start to race is at one point he hears muffled voices, barely audible, behind one of the impossibly placed doors.

The situation is feeling less and less cool, Fear thinks. Hands shaking and eyes darting nervously aren’t fun, the indulgence loses it’s novelty as more and more he wants to turn a corner and find himself face to face with someone that will yell at him to go back to bed. Fuck, how long has he been walking now? 

Another loud crash sounds off, closer, echoing like thunder off of what had to be a large room. He starts to wonder if this is what their medium feels like all the time. Like something is digging it’s claws into his chest and fighting to pull him back into something he can’t see but he knows is horrible. Or, like if he stands still too long there’s something behind him, breathing down the back of his neck. At one point he sees it standing behind him at the end of a long hallway, terrible and black not in color but by sheer lack of nothing being where the figure should be. A void that sucks in the faint light of the windows until it’s swallowed in darkness. 

Fear mutters  _ fuck _ under his breath and picks up the pace. 

By now it’s freezing cold and he’s not sure if that’s why he’s shaking. Whatevers following him is definitely tangible now; a  _ thing _ he can see if he turns around and catches the timing just right. He’s stopped trying doors and looking out windows, he just runs, the same unnameable drive in his gut saying calmly not to stop or something bad will happen, and if he keeps going, something good will. At one point he passes a door he realizes looks horribly wrong but can’t think on it long as just behind it, a voice not man nor woman, says loud enough to hear, “But where will he go?”

Fear’s about to start smashing windows, kicking in doors, anything to change the pace of the endless maze, throw the thing off, though he only doesn’t as he flies around a corner and is met by a pale figure, nearly glowing in the dark.   
  
“Stop - calm down,” a familiar voice, quiet but urgent.

“Wh - what the fuck - that thing -” Fear stammers, pointing behind him and trying to place words to what was happening.

Sorrow grabs his arm, staring him down with an intensity that’s alien for the medium. “Follow me. Don’t look over your shoulder. I can explain in the morning.”

The brief response isn’t nearly enough to satisfy the frantic man, but he doesn’t speak further, and lets himself be led down yet another fucking hallway. It takes awhile still, the corridors confused and black, but over time he notices the building returns to normal. Windows have raindrops on them, doors appear regularly and on one side, all leading back to a hallway with man made light spilling from beneath one door. All the while it takes every ounce of willpower not to look behind him, to check and make sure the thing isn’t still there. 

Once back to the room neither speaks. Fear climbs into his cot and watches as Sorrow pauses to line the doorway with salt. He doesn’t think he’ll sleep at all that night but laying in bed staring at the ceiling feels preferable to breaking the safety of silence. 


End file.
